The Mammoth Book Of Regency Romance Part 77

He heard her soft footsteps. He slid his gaze towards her, almost becoming lost in her eyes. He'd not been able to tell their shade until they'd sat for dinner and the flames on the table had illuminated them. They were unusual, so pale that her eyes seemed to be little beyond brightness. He couldn't explain it, but they reminded him of something.

"Must he remain while we discuss this?" he asked, indicating the stoic butler.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Jones, please leave us."

"Miss-"

"I shall be fine."

The butler grunted in obvious disapproval, before leaving the room, the door closing quietly in his wake. Harteley turned, pressed his shoulder to the window, and folded his arms across his chest. "You could have anyone. Why me?"

"I can't have anyone. The circ.u.mstance of my birth ensures it."

"Still, I am left with the impression that you're not being totally honest with me regarding this arrangement."

She nodded, glanced down, then lifted her gaze in what he was coming to recognize as her defiance against the world and its unfairness. "My mother is dying."

He heard true sorrow and bereavement in her voice, and couldn't prevent his tone from indicating the same. "My condolences."

"She's not yet dead. As I said, she's provided all this for me. My entire life, she has strived to give me what she never had. She has very little time left. I want her to know that I am to marry above my station. I believe it will bring her . . . peace."

"And you believe I can be easily bought?"

Her lips parted slightly, and not for the first time that evening he wondered what it might be like to press his against hers. He couldn't deny that she appealed to him on a primal level. Sharing a marriage bed with her would certainly be no hardship. Lord, who was he striving to convince? Bedding her would be b.l.o.o.d.y marvellous. He'd want to take her here, in this room, with the sunlight streaming in. He'd have no reason to imagine her as anything other than the beauty she was.

"Have I judged you poorly?" she asked.

"Unfortunately for you, no."

Her green eyes widened at that. "Why unfortunately?"

"I take after my father. I'm a selfish man who cares about only what benefits and satisfies me."

"I don't believe that."

Unfolding his arms, he took a step towards her. "You should, Miss Vernon. If I am to accept your offer for marriage, I believe it imperative that you understand exactly what you have bargained for." With one hand, he cradled her face and stroked his thumb at the corner of her mouth. "I would not be denied."

"I would never deny you," she said on a soft breath.

"I would expect complete obedience."

She opened her mouth, closed it, shook her head. He couldn't prevent a corner of his mouth from curling up. "That you would deny me."

"I cannot promise it, no. I fear I've been rather spoiled. I'm accustomed to having my own way."

"Would you at least try?"

"I would try, but make no promises. What else would you require?"

Her breath was coming in short little gasps; her eyes had grown languid with each stroke of his thumb.

"I believe those are all my requirements," he murmured. "What of yours? Surely you expect more from me than to simply parade me about as your husband."

"In public, I would expect you to at least pretend to love me. And we must be seen in public. As soon as possible. My mother still has visitors. Some are men of influence. She must never know that I've paid for your . . . favours. It would break her heart, and I'll not countenance that. If you cannot put on a good show for her benefit, there is no reason to go any further."

"My dear Miss Vernon, I believe I have the acting skills necessary to play Romeo." He held her gaze.

"How many men have you entertained?"

"None. I am still a virgin." He believed her.

"Pay all my debts, and we shall announce our betrothal."

"You're accepting my offer then?"

"I would be a fool not to." Before she could object or say more, he lowered his head and took possession of her mouth. It had teased him from the moment she'd first spoken. He preferred women of experience, but her innocence was an aphrodisiac. He felt within her quivering slender frame a hesitation and an eagerness. One of her arms wound around his neck, while the other formed a slight buffer between them, her hand clasping his waistcoat. She didn't object to his questing tongue, rather she welcomed it with seeming abandon. She explored as much as he did. She tasted of wine, so much so that he wondered if she'd fortified herself before his arrival. But there was nothing in her speech or actions to indicate she'd imbibed too much.

Unexpected heat scored him. He'd feared that owing her for the relief her coins would provide would haunt him, would make him unable to desire her, but his fears had been for naught. He wanted her with a desperation that surprised him. Every woman he'd ever had had been held by other men before him. There was something both sweet and enticing to realize that she would come to him pure.

He pulled back from the kiss before he was tempted to take her there and then. He owed her that much at least, to wait until their wedding night. She came with enough scandalous baggage. He had no intention of adding to it.

"Will you secure a special licence?" she asked.

"If you wish."

"I shall see that all your debtors are paid tomorrow."

He furrowed his brow. "Are you certain this is the path you wish to take, Miss Vernon?"

"I've known since the first moment I set eyes on you."

The night had gone much better than Arianna had ever dared dream. She'd prepared for bed, but she'd been unable to sleep. After that torrid kiss he'd given her, all she'd been able to do was think about Lord Harteley. She'd feared it was a childish fantasy, but now it would come true. She would marry him.

She arose early and prepared for her journey into town so she could see her solicitor and take care of all that was needed to bring this plan to fruition.

But first she needed to see her mother.

She strolled out of her room and down the hallway to the bedchamber at the end. She took a deep breath, fortifying herself, before opening the door. Morning light and a rose-scented breeze eased in through the windows. The companion who stayed with her mother through the night rose from her chair beside the bed.

"Good morning, Gladys."

"Miss Vernon."

"Please fetch us our breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am."

While Gladys' heels clicked swiftly over the polished wooden floor, Arianna approached the bed, bent over and pressed a kiss to her mother's warm brow. "How are you this morning?"

She'd learned not to ask others how her mother was doing. It brought out her mother's temper. "Talk to me, girl. I'm not dead yet," she'd lamented on more than one occasion.

"Not too bad," her mother responded now in a weary voice.

"Are you in much pain?"

"The laudanum helps."

Arianna sat on the edge of the bed and took her mother's frail hand, wondering how it could be so cold when her brow was so warm. It had once caressed her back while she wept and swiped away her tears afterwards, with a gentleness that had caused more tears to form. From the moment she'd understood what her mother was, she'd not judged her. Her mother had done all in her power to protect her. Now it was Arianna's turn to take care of her. She couldn't cure her of the cancer. Lord knew she'd consulted enough physicians and taken her to the waters. For all the money her mother had acc.u.mulated, for all that would be pa.s.sed on to Arianna, she would willingly give away every ha'penny if it would ease her mother's suffering, if it would keep her with her.

But to plead for her mother to stay when she was in such pain was too cruel. So all she could do was relieve her worry.

"I've been keeping a secret from you," Arianna said quietly.

"I doubt it, dearest. Even confined to my bed, I hear of a good many things." Her mother's once bright pale-green eyes were now dull. Her once glorious mane of hair was now thin and so faint a blonde as to be almost white.

Arianna concentrated on the blue veins lining her mother's hand. "A gentleman has been calling on me. A lord. An earl. He's asked to marry me." She raised her eyes. "I said yes."

She watched as a long-lost sparkle entered her mother's eyes. "Who is he?"

"Lord Harteley."

The sparkle dimmed somewhat. "You do realize in all likelihood he is marrying you for your money."

Arianna smiled. "You do realize that in all likelihood most men would. You placed me at a disadvantage by providing me with all this wealth."

"How selfish of me."

She squeezed her mother's hand. "I shall be a countess. I shall have entry into all the homes you were denied."

"I want you to have love."

Lifting her mother's hand, she pressed a kiss to her fingertips. "It will come."

"You were always such a dreamer."

"Which is the reason you love me."

"I love you, dearest, because you are mine."

And now she would be Harteley's. Surely in time he would come to love her as well.

He'd been swept away by possibilities, by a simple solution to a complicated problem. Before last night, he'd certainly considered marrying a woman who came with a nice dowry, but the thought had rankled. Yes, it was acceptable to marry for money, but still it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Or perhaps it was simply all the whisky he'd drunk after returning to his residence last night. He was in his library now, tipping up one empty bottle after another, searching for one last drop.

"I do hope you won't imbibe to this extent once we are married."

He swung around to see Miss Vernon standing in the doorway. Even from this distance, he could see the displeasure marring her lovely features. Perhaps marriage wouldn't be such a simple solution after all. "What are you doing here?" The words were snapped and churlish.

She merely arched a finely shaped eyebrow and glided over to the window. "I went to see my solicitor. I wanted to let you know that I have made arrangements and all you need do is send him a list of your debts, and he shall see to them. I knocked but no one answered. The door was not locked and so here I am." Sighing, she glanced around at empty bookshelves and clutter that was of no value. "It's worse than I thought."

"Reconsidering your proposal?"

She gave him a soft smile. "No. I told Mother the wonderful news this morning, and she was quite delighted. And relieved. I owe you for that. Whatever the cost, it is worth it."

He wandered over to where she stood by the window and leaned against the wall. "And if the cost is your unhappiness?"

"Why would your purpose be to make me unhappy?"

"Not my purpose, but . . . ours is more a business arrangement than anything else."

"Most marriages among the aristocracy are, from what I understand."

"Don't you wish for more?"

"Of course I do. Don't you?"

He hadn't meant to reach out to touch her, but she'd left some strands of hair to frame her face and he found himself toying with them, allowing his fingers to graze the soft curve of her cheek.

"Why me? I've been sitting here ever since I returned home last night wondering why me? There are other impoverished lords who'd have jumped at your offer. Why did you choose me?"

"Because all the others turned me down."

His hand stilled, his gut clenched.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. The look on your face. No, no." She was suddenly so near that he could feel her breath against his chin when she spoke. Her hands were roaming over his face, and he imagined them roaming elsewhere, ungloved, as they'd been the night before following dinner. "I've made you feel less than you are," she said softly. "You are the only one I asked. The only one I would have asked."

"Why?"

She turned away, and in the sunlight easing through the window, he could see the blush creeping along her face. "Now it is my turn to be hurt. You don't remember me, but when I was younger, much, much younger, our paths crossed. You spoke to me and I took quite a fancy to you. I've heard tales about you over the years. I know your father didn't treat you kindly and that you were at odds. I know that he cared only for his own pleasures and nothing for the legacy he was leaving you."

"If you were a child, you viewed me through the eyes of a child. Surely, I have changed in all these years."

She faced him and flattened her hand against his chest. "Not here, deep inside. I know it seems silly, but I've always felt something special where you are concerned. I can't explain it, but perhaps it's not meant to be explained."

He glanced out at the briars and thickets. By the end of the week, he'd have gardeners to put matters to rights. He could hardly fathom how all this had come about. Who'd have thought he'd have a guardian angel?

"If we're to make an announcement in The Times," he said quietly, "it would do us in good stead to be seen at least once together. Would you care to take a turn about the park with me?"

Relief and joy lit her face. "I would be delighted."

Because he didn't have an open carriage, they took her coach to Hyde Park after Harteley had made himself presentable and disembarked to stroll among the greenery. She loved it. Had always loved it. Had loved the city, but her visits here had always been rare because her mother had sought to spare her from the mortification of her origins. She couldn't help but notice how dashing Harteley was in his fine attire. Perhaps they'd live in his residence and she could visit the park every day.

"How did your mother come by the wealth she will leave to you?" he asked.

Her arm was intertwined with his. It was the only thing that stopped her from stumbling over her own feet. She'd known he'd ask eventually.

"I'm not sure." It was a lie, of course. Not because she was ashamed of her mother or what she'd done to ensure Arianna had everything, but she knew he would find fault with it and, as a result, with her. Until they were actually married, she'd hold her secrets close. "She thought it crude to speak of money."